Personality Plus
by a1965chameleon
Summary: Pete's new girlfriend has a deadly hidden agenda in mind for him. When he fails to report for duty after a date with her, it's up to his partner and other co-workers to rescue him and anyone else that crosses the psychopathic woman's path.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Love the characters; wish I owned them, but I don't. I only borrow them for entertainment purposes and then I put them back for the next writer to use.

Personality Plus

(Chapter 1)

© December 2009

"1 Adam-12, Day watch clear." Jim spoke into the mic as Pete pulled the police cruiser out into the early morning traffic.

"_1 Adam-12, Day watch clear_." The dispatcher repeated.

"Looks like it's going to be a clear, hot day, partner."

"That it does, junior. Let's just hope that the natives aren't too restless. I just don't think I'm in the mood to do too much running today."

Jim laughed at his partner and friend. "Yeah, like you do any more running than you have to."

"Hey, I run when I have to…you know, when you have more than one…or two…people to chase." Pete retorted with a snicker.

"Yeah, right." Jim chuckled.

The microphone crackled to life. _"1 Adam-12, assist L.A. Co. paramedics on the scene, 176 Bethel, unwanted subject interfering with their call; handle code 2."_

"176 Bethel; 1 Adam-12 roger."

Pete had already turned the car and was heading toward the address. As with most calls, few words were exchanged during the short drive to the residence. Arriving within mere minutes, the officers pulled up behind the L.A. Co. Rescue Squad and exited their vehicle, donning hats and placing nightsticks into the holders as they did so.

As they approached the residence, they could hear the sounds of people yelling at each other; they ran up onto the porch, and since the door was open and they could see and be seen through the screen door, they went on in without knocking.

The paramedics from Station 36 had their hands full trying to treat a middle-aged man with a severe cut running the length of his forearm. He was busy yelling profanities at a middle-aged woman who was standing about ten-foot away and shooting daggers at him with angry green eyes.

Suddenly, the woman let out a screech that could have awakened the dead and made a running lunge towards the verbally abusive man, knocking both of the unsuspecting paramedics for a loop. Immediately, Pete and Jim pulled the woman off of the man, with Pete grabbing both of her arms, and forcing them behind her back. As he was getting ready to put the cuffs on her, she reared back with her head as hard as she could, catching him in the chin.

Pete lost his grip and staggered backwards. The woman lunged forward again, this time being caught by Jim. Immediately she twisted away from him and turned around, stomped on his foot with all of her two hundred and eighty pounds. She then brought her knee up into his groin, doubling him over in nauseating anguish.

Pete, once more with his bearings in tact, grabbed the woman and managed to get the cuffs on her. He then read her rights.

"You okay, there, Jim?" Pete asked, concerned for his partner, who was still on the floor in a near fetal position, looking as though he was going to toss his cookies at any moment. One of the paramedics was at his side, but unable to offer any assistance at the moment. It was just one of times that had to be worked through individually.

"M'okay." Jim mumbled through clenched teeth as he slowly sat up, wincing with each move. "Just get her away from me!"

Pete escorted the hostile woman out to the police car and placed her in the rear seat. He then called for another unit to transport her to the station so that he could take Jim to Central Receiving to be checked out. The last thing he wanted on his conscious was the fact that Jimmy Reed may have just been guaranteed a future as an only child. He didn't want the wrath of Jean on his conscience, either.

The ambulance and the transport unit both pulled up a few minutes later. Pete made short work of transplanting the vile woman into the other police car and then went back into the house, where, much to his relief, Jim, though still pale, was slowly rising to his feet and insisting to the paramedics that he was fine.

Turning to the senior officer, one of the paramedics addressed Pete, "You probably should have your partner checked out down at Central Receiving." He then reached out towards Pete's chin, careful not to touch the small, broken skinned area on the bottom of his chin, "Looks like you need to get a couple of stitches while your there, too."

"What are you talking about?" Pete started to bring his hand up to his chin, only to have the paramedic chastise him.

"Don't touch your chin. Here, let me put a bandage on it for right now, but get down there and get it checked out. The fatty tissue is bulging out of it…you've got a nice little gash going on there, Officer."

"Is it bleeding pretty bad?" Pete inquired, though he couldn't feel any blood dripping and there was nothing showing on his uniform shirt when he looked down.

"Nope." Answered the paramedic nonchalantly. "That's how you know it's pretty deep and will need stitches…the fatty tissue is bulging through and keeping the blood from coming out. Now hold still while I get this bandage in place."

Several minutes later, Pete, with Jim slowly walking behind him, headed out to the squad car. Getting in and situating themselves, Jim picked up the mic, "1 Adam-12 to dispatch; show us en-route to Central Receiving for follow-up and treatment."

"_Roger, 1 Adam-12. Meet with 1 L-20 on Tac 2."_

"1 Adam-12, clear." Jim switched the radio knob to Tac 2, "1 Adam-12 to 1 L-20, go ahead."

"What's going on, Reed?" Came Mac's voice.

"We just got ourselves into a little ruckus with this last call, Mac. We have to swing by Central Receiving for some follow-up information…and to get ourselves checked out."

"1 L-20 to 1 Adam-12…I'm sorry I asked. I'll meet you at Central Receiving. 1 L-20, out.

Jim rolled his eyes in Pete's direction, "Dad's gotta check up on us."

Pete laughed heartily, "_DAD?…_Oh, that's priceless, Jim."

Two hours later, the partners were back on patrol, still slightly bruised and battered, with Pete sporting a small white bandage under his chin. Overall, the two were none the worse for the wear.

* * *

Pete happily bounced his six month old godson, Jimmy Reed, on his knee, getting a huge kick out of the true belly laugh elicited from the tyke each time Pete would lift him up and bring him back down. As he often did, he was going to have dinner with the Reeds. He had invited a date to join him, but she wasn't off of work yet, so she was driving over a little later. Jim had gone off to the grocery to get ingredients for the salad and Pete was doing his part by keeping Jimmy occupied so Jean could prepare dinner.

"That might not be such a good idea, Pete." Jean admonished with a smile. "After all, he just ate about a half and hour ago and his tummy is probably still pretty full. You may end up with a nasty mess on your hands…and pants…and shirt…and in…"

Laughing, Pete stopped bouncing the baby and held up a hand to stop her from going any further. "I think I get the picture, Jean. Thanks for the warning, but if I know my little godson, he's just like his daddy and he isn't about to let go of any part of his meal."

As if to prove his Uncle Pete wrong, Jimmy picked that moment to spit up in Pete's lap.

"Oh…yuck." Pete stated, with a grim look on his face as the acrid smell of the spittle reached his nose. The baby on his knee had a bright-eyed smile and was blowing raspberries at Pete and waving his little arms a mile a minute.

"As I was saying, before you cut me off, Pete…and in your lap, too!" Jean laughed as she reached for a happily gurgling Jimmy. "You know where the washcloths are kept. I'll see if Jim has a pair of jeans that you can change into."

"No need, Jean, I'll just wipe it off as best as I can. I'll be fine until I get home. Besides, I don't think Jim has any jeans that will fit me…he's too tall." Pete, the stockier built half of Adam-12, didn't figure that anything in his taller, much trimmer partners' wardrobe would fit him, except for possibly a tee-shirt and sweatpants.

"Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, just let me know." Jean sat Jimmy in his highchair and snapped him in securely before going back to her dinner preparations.

Pete, having wiped himself off as much as possible, came into the kitchen and asked Jean if there was anything that he could help with. She figured that with him being a bachelor, the best thing that he could do was to just stay out of the way. "Nope, everything is under control. Just have a seat and relax. Jim said you two really stayed busy today."

Not knowing whether Jim had told Jean about their trip to the emergency room or not, he shrugged his shoulders, "It wasn't too bad today." Pete pulled out a chair over by Jimmy, and continued to keep the little guy happy, though making sure that he was out of flying spit-up territory. One nasty mess for today was enough.

Almost as if reading his mind, Jean took note of the small bandage on Pete's chin and asked, "What happened to your chin, anyway?"

"Oh…I just bumped it a little hard on something and I didn't want to get blood on my shirt, so I put a bandage on it." _Please don't ask what I bumped it on…please don't ask._

"Peter J. Malloy…if my husband isn't afraid to tell me that you two had to go to the hospital and be treated today, then _why_ are you?" Jean admonished.

Pete gave her a sheepish smile before answering. "Ya see, Jean, I don't need a wife to keep me on the straight and narrow; you do a good job of that. Besides, I wasn't _afraid_ to tell you…I just didn't want Jim to get in the doghouse with you if he hadn't said anything."

"Mmm…I see. So that's your story and you're sticking to it, huh?"

Pete let out a laugh and threw his hands in the air, "Yep, that's about the size of it. What more can I say?"

"What time is Angela getting off of work?" Jean asked, laughing at Pete.

Checking his watch, Pete noticed that it was almost ten after five. "She said that she'd be here by five-thirty, so it shouldn't be long now. Just a little word for good measure…she hates being called 'Angela', just call her 'Angie'."

"Oh…okay; well I can't wait to meet her. She sounds terrific for you!" Jean's eyes danced in merriment.

"She is…terrific that is…but we've only gone out a few times, and we enjoy each other's company; that's all there is to it, so don't read into for more than that, Jean."

"You need to seriously start looking for a wife, Pete Malloy! One of these days, you're going to wake up and find yourself old and wrinkled, and terribly alone. Is that what you want out of life?"

Pete rolled his eyes, "No, _mother_, that's not what I want out of life. Maybe one of these days, I'll find Miss Right and settle down. Right now, it just so happens that I enjoy being single. What's wrong with that?"

Before Jean could answer, the doorbell rang and Pete sprang out of the chair, startling Jimmy into a quick, wide-eyed surprise, followed closely by a pouting lip and then an ear-splitting scream. Pete immediately unhooked the little guy and picked him up, and, holding him close to his chest, he murmured comforting words to him as he walked toward the front door and opened it.

"Oh!" A surprised and slightly taken aback Angie stood there, arms folded and staring at Pete like he had grown an extra set of ears or some other outlandish feature. "What's that?" She asked, pointing towards Jimmy and not bothering to hide her displeasure that Pete was too preoccupied with his godson to give her a proper welcoming. Pete seemed oblivious to her tone of questioning.

"Come in Angie; this little bundle of energy is my godson, Jimmy!" With a pride in his eyes that matched the pride in his voice, Pete turned the baby around so that Angie could get good look at him. Jimmy smiled and cooed at Angie, and Pete didn't seem to notice that Angie's smile didn't reach her eyes as she smiled back at little Jimmy. He had already turned the boy back around and was making funny faces at him, causing him to laugh at his honorary uncle and godfather.

Pete ushered Angie into the kitchen, where he made the necessary introductions between Jean and Angie, just at Jim was coming in the back door. He proceeded to introduce Angie to Jim, as well.

Jim put down the groceries and then reached out to shake Angie's hand. He then kissed Jean, and reached over and took Jimmy from Pete.

Having been relieved of his small burden, Pete slung his arm over Angie's shoulders and smiled down at her. She wrinkled her nose at him, "What _is_ that smell?" she questioned, as she sniffed.

"Oh, it's nothing; Jimmy just spit up a little when I was bouncing him on my knee earlier."

"And don't you think you should have changed your clothes?" It was obvious that Angie was very put off by the lingering pungent smell.

Pete looked at her in disbelief. "Well I wiped it off with a wet washcloth and some soap. It's really not that bad." Angie's only reply was an icy glare that left Pete feeling somewhat uncomfortable and wondering why he'd never seen this side of her before. He quickly decided that she must have had a bad day at work, and shook it off.

Jim and Jean exchanged a look that spoke volumes about Pete's newest love interest. She may have been pretty, but she wasn't leaving a very glamorous impression on the two of them.

"Uhm, Jim, honey, would you mind setting the table while I toss the salad?" Jean asked, hoping that would be enough of a subject change to surpass the uncomfortable moment.

"Sure, babe, let me just put Jimmy in his highchair." Jim started to move toward the highchair when Pete intercepted and took Jimmy from him.

"I'll take him. We'll go out back and swing a little bit. Are you coming with us Angie?"

"Yeah, I guess."

They walked outside and Pete placed Jimmy in the baby swing, gently pushing him as the swing came forward each time. Very few words were being exchanged between Pete and Angie.

From the kitchen window, Jean was watching the scene unfold. "Wow, she's something else, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but _what_?" Jim questioned. "She's definitely not Pete material, that's for sure. I mean she's pretty enough and all, but even Pete has to look beyond that and see that she's just…different."

"She's not very friendly, that's for sure. And I don't think she likes kids. Did you see the way she looked at Pete when he took Jimmy back from you? Maybe you should talk to Pete about her."

"Honey, you know I can't do that. Pete's an adult and if he likes her, then we have no business getting in between that. Besides, maybe she just needs some time to adjust to being around little ones."

"Well, I'm not so sure I want her around _our_ little one."

Jim had finished setting the table and walked over to put his arms around his wife, "Let's just concentrate of getting through dinner. Who knows, maybe she'll loosen up as the evening goes on."

"Hmph, maybe so…but I doubt it. Something about her just seems…weird."

"Hinky, ya mean?"

"Hinky?" Jean repeated.

"Yeah, hinky…that's how Pete describes things that just don't seem right."

Jean let out a giggle as Jim nuzzled her ear. "Why don't you call Pete and his 'hinky' girlfriend in; I'm getting ready to get the roast out of the oven."

Pete and Jim sat at opposite ends of the table, and the two women sat across from each other. Jimmy sat in his highchair between Jim and Jean, jabbering between bites of baby food. Jean, Jim and Pete laughed at his antics; much to Pete's dismay, Angie made a point of ignoring the youngest member of the Reed family.

"Jean, you outdid yourself on the roast." Pete directed to Jean. "But then that doesn't surprise me in the least, Jean is an excellent cook." Pete supplied for Angie's benefit.

Going through the rituals of etiquette, "Everything was good, Jean. Thank you, both, for allowing Pete to invite me over."

"Oh, hey, it was our pleasure." Jim offered, for lack of a better response.

"Yes, and we hope that you'll feel welcome in our home, anytime." Jean included.

"Yes, well, thank you both again." Angie then turned to Pete, "Pete, would you be a dear and walk me out to my car. I really must turn in early tonight, I have the early shift tomorrow." She was halfway to the front door before she finished talking.

"Oh, uhm, okay. I thought that we were going to make an evening of it, though?" Pete was perplexed by Angie's attitude.

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. I really have to go. Now, will you please walk me out?" Her tone left no room for further discussion.

"Yeah…sure. I'll be right back, Jim." Pete tossed over his shoulder as he ushered Angie out.

"Yeah, sure Pete. Just come on in, it'll be open."

Pete couldn't understand what had gotten in Angie, but chose not to make an issue of it as he walked her out. "Can I call you tomorrow?" He asked, halfway wondering why he wanted to call her, after the way she had acted at meeting his friends.

"You'd better…I'm looking forward to seeing you…_just_ you…soon." She purred into his ear before landing a sensual kiss on his lips.

Now Pete _was_ confused. All of the sudden, Angie had gone from cold and distant to hot to trot. Part of him was tempted to go back inside and bid his farewells for the evening and follow Angie home.

"Good…I'll call you tomorrow then, Angie."

"It's Angela, silly…call me, Angela." She embraced him and pressed her body seductively up against his. Immediately Pete could feel his body reacting and he had just about lost all resolve about staying at the Reeds any longer. Angie suddenly pulled away, flaunted a small wave at him and then got into her little green Volkswagen and drove off, leaving Pete standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Not quite sure what had been her problem during the evening, Pete climbed the steps to the Reeds' front porch and went inside. If nothing else, he felt he needed to apologize to Jim and Jean for Angie's behavior.

Jean was standing in the kitchen, at the sink, washing the last of the dishes when Pete walked back into the house. Jim was sitting in the recliner, holding Jimmy on his lap and giving him his nighttime bottle.

"Everything okay, Pete?" Jim asked, concerned at the look on his friends' face.

"Yeah…I think. I don't know what got into Angie this evening. She's not usually…so standoffish."

"Maybe she was just nervous about meeting us."

"Yeah…maybe. Listen, why don't you let me give Jimmy his bottle. You go in there and take that lovely wife of yours outside and spend a little time together on that porch swing that you put up."

"Now that sounds like a really good idea to me!" Jean agreed as she came into the room after overhearing Pete's offer.

Jim handed Jimmy off to Pete, laying him in Pete's arms, face up, with the bottle clenched tightly in his little fists. He looked up at Pete and gave him a big smile around the bottle nipple. "Hey big guy, you smiling at Uncle Pete, are you? You know you're supposed to be dozing off so your folks can spend some time together?"

Jimmy gurgled and took his bottle out of his mouth, holding it towards Pete's face, making his godfather chuckle at his actions. "Oh no, little buddy, that's _your_ bedtime bottle. Uncle Pete still has drive home, and warm milk would only make me too sleepy for that."

Before long, Jimmy was dozing off, safe and snug in the arms of his uncle. Jim and Jean had come back in and Jean took Jimmy and put him to bed while Jim put on a pot of coffee for the adults.

"So Pete, where did you meet Angie?" Jean asked after coming back from the nursery.

"She's a nurse over at Central Receiving. She just moved here from San Francisco about a month or so ago, and was lucky enough to be hired at the hospital. I met her when we were over there a few weeks ago doing some follow-up on a traffic accident. We've been out a few times. She's a really nice girl. I don't know what was wrong with her tonight. Maybe she had a bad day at work." _I really should find out what got into her tonight. I'll ask her when I call her tomorrow. _Pete mused to himself.

"Well, I guess we all have bad days once in awhile." Jean agreed.

"Coffee, Pete?" Jim inquired as he walked toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, Jim; I'll have a cup and then I should get going, too. Roll call will be here before you know it." He and Jim had just finished day three of a five-day stretch on the day watch shift, and both were looking forward to the upcoming weekend. They were going to do some work on the Reeds' garage roof, repairing a leak, and then have a relaxing barbecue; Pete wasn't so sure that barbecue would be involving his latest love interest, though.

A short time later, Pete rinsed his coffee cup and bid the Reeds goodnight. It wasn't a long drive home, but it was getting late and he really needed to get to bed and get a good night of sleep.

Pulling into the parking space reserved for him behind his apartment building, Pete didn't notice the little green Volkswagen parked several spaces down from him. As he climbed from his car, a scantily dressed Angela approached him.

"Peter." Her voice sounded low and seductive. He wasn't quite sure why, but his sixth sense, the one he liked to call 'the hinky' sense, tripped into action.

"Angie?" Pete's eyes roved up and down the curvaceous body of the woman standing in front of him, dressed only in a skimpy, see through negligee that hung low in the chest and ran high near the thighs. "Uhm…don't you think you should have a few more clothes on in public?"

Choosing to ignore his slight chastising of her choice of attire, "It's 'Angela,' remember?" She slinked up to Pete and slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him in close to her.

"I, uhm…I thought you were going home." Pete's mind was flying a mile a minute at this surprise visit.

Angela's pretty little mouth puckered up into a pout. "You mean you aren't happy to see me? I've been waiting here for over an hour. I thought you'd be home way before now."

"Angie, you told me that you were going home; that you were tired and have a big day tomorrow. Certainly that didn't change in the last two hours."

"I really do prefer 'Angela', and there's no _big_ day tomorrow. I only said that in hopes that you would take the hint and follow me home. You see, I've been thinking about being with you…all day long. I just didn't want to share you with anyone this evening." Pete bought in to her explanation without question as she continued to press her body into his, causing the desired reaction from Pete.

"Well then, in that case, why don't we head up to the apartment and see where this evening leads us?" His response was thick with anticipation as he pressed his body in closer to hers, allowing her to 'feel' his approval at this pleasantly unexpected turn to the evening.

"Huh-uh…let's go back to my place…your apartment walls are _way _to thin for the exciting evening that I have planned."

"Well now, I _do _have to work tomorrow, you know." Pete began to protest, but then seeing the disappointed look on the woman's face, his resolve quickly faded. "Okay, I'll follow you home…but I can't stay all night."

"Oh, don't worry, it won't take all night; after all, like I said, I've been thinking about this _all_ day long."

Pete watched as Angie climbed back into her car and then he got into his as well. The drive to her small, two-bedroom bungalow took about fifteen minutes. The house was situated on an acre of plush green grass, surrounded by several trees and no houses or neighbors for a city block on either side. The area across the street was undeveloped land, just waiting for potential buyers. Angie's bungalow was one of the few structures that had been constructed as of yet, in the new housing development. He noticed that she hadn't even taken the 'for sale' sign out of the yard, yet.

The door of the attached two-car garage was open and Angie pulled her car in. She got out and waited for Pete to pull into the driveway and then waved him into the garage, as well. He pulled his car in next to hers.

Angie had turned on the garage light and after Pete pulled his in she promptly shut the garage door, causing Pete to give her a questioning look as he stated, "You know, Angie, I really can't stay all night. I could have just left my car in the driveway."

Choosing to let it slide that Pete wasn't calling her 'Angela' like she had asked, "No, that wouldn't have been good, Peter. I don't have many neighbors, but the ones that I do have, are quite nosy. I don't want to give them anything to talk about, you know what I mean?" She purred as she hooked her arms around his neck and gave him a teasing nibble on his earlobe, causing him to moan in anticipation of the evening ahead.

"Let's go into the house, Peter."

Had Pete been thinking straight at that moment, the little hairs on the back of his neck would have been raised. Angie didn't normally call him 'Peter', yet she had done so three times in the span of less than a half an hour.

Angie led the way into the house, "Go on in and make yourself comfortable; I'll get us a drink."

"Uhm…okay." Pete smiled and then made his way into the living room and sat down on the couch. He figured that he might as well get comfortable, so he removed his shoes and lounged back against the couch, closing his eyes for a short lived moment.

Angie set the two glasses of beer on the coffee table and then slunk down onto the couch next to Pete, half on and half off of his lap. He moaned and enfolded her into his arms, pulling her fully onto his lap and going in for a kiss, as he caressed her. She stopped him short with a finger to his lips. "No, no, no, Peter…not just yet; let's just sip our drinks and relax a little bit." She leaned forward and picked up the glasses, handing one to Pete.

"Thanks." He took a long pull from his glass before setting it on the end table next to the couch. "So, just what sort of 'relaxing' did you have in mind?"

"Mmmm, I thought we would just hold each other, sip our drinks, and then…well, then we'll just go with the flow of the evening." She reached over with and picked up Pete's drink and handed it to him. He took another long pull from it.

"Are you trying to get me tipsy so that I can't drive home, young lady?" Pete asked playfully.

"Mmmm…maybe. I can think of worse things that could happen to you, though."

Pete gave her a smirky smile, "I guess there are worse things, at that." He drained his glass.

"Here, drink some of mine; I'm not much into beer." Angie handed him her still full glass.

After he'd finished draining her glass as well, Angie began kissing him near his ear and down his neck. Pete knew he should be enjoying her tender ministrations, but his head was feeling really fuzzy. His eyes were blurring and he couldn't seem to focus on anything. Opening his mouth to say something, he found that he couldn't seem to put two words together without tremendous effort. "Ang…gie…some…something's wrong. Home…gotta go…home." Pete's words were coming out slurred and choppy. He couldn't understand how two glasses of beer could be so intoxicating. He could feel himself fading quickly into unconsciousness.

Angie pulled away, "Oh no, Peter, nothing's wrong. As a matter of fact…everything is just perfect. Just like I planned it. You aren't going anywhere...not now, and not later. You see, I've waited a long, long time to get to you, and now that I have you, you are going to pay dearly for what you did to my father five years ago." Her words were lost on Pete as he drifted off in unconsciousness.

Angie extracted herself from his lap, and then made quick work of relieving Pete of his off-duty weapon that he had in a small holster on his belt. She then turned him onto his stomach and bound his wrists together behind his back with a piece of rope. Then she bound his ankles together with a second piece of twine. "Don't go anywhere sleeping beauty; I need to go wash your filthy touch off of my skin."


	2. Chapter 2

Personality Plus

(Chapter 2)

© December 2009

Pete opened his eyes, briefly wondering where he was. With the morning sun streaming in on his face, his mind was still fuzzy and his head ached. The last thing he remembered was holding Angie on his lap as they sat drinking their beer. _I must have fallen asleep here on Angie's couch_, Pete thought as he tried to turn over. It took him only a moment to realize that his wrists and ankles were bound. _What the hell? What's going on here?_ Pete's thoughts were whirling.

"Angie?" Pete croaked out, receiving no answer. "Angie?" He tried again, but still did not receive an answer. Finally, he yelled, "ANGIE!"

"You don't have to yell…I can hear you just fine." Angie came into the living room. "Took you long enough to wake up…I must have used more of the sleeping drug than I intended to; good thing I didn't overdose you on it…what fun would that have been?" She purred into his ear as she leaned in and traced his earlobe with her tongue.

"What the hell is going on, Angie? Why am I tied up? What kind of sick and twisted little game are you playing?"

"Oh, I assure you, _Officer _Peter J. Malloy, this is not a game; this is very real and I intend to make sure that you pay dearly for killing my father five years ago." This time, her voice was icy cold.

"What are you talking about?" Pete demanded.

"In due time, Officer Malloy; in due time. Now, since you are awake, I need to keep you quiet. I need to step out for awhile and it wouldn't do for you to lay there yelling your head off…just in case someone would drop by. " Angie went back into the kitchen and Pete could hear her rummaging through a drawer. She came back with a piece of duct tape and before Pete could protest, she slapped the tape securely over his mouth, silencing any further words that Pete wanted to utter.

From his face down, prone position on the couch, Pete watched as Angie closed the drapes, picked up her purse and left the house, leaving him behind, in silence, to contemplate what was happening. Immediately he began trying to finagle the rope that was binding his wrists, but it was no use, it was tied well and taut. Giving up, he pondered Angie's words to him regarding her father. _Who was her father?_ He wondered. _Five years ago…think Pete, think! _

* * *

Jim walked into the locker room, ready to give Pete a hard time for not picking him up for work like he was supposed to have done. Looking around, Jim didn't see Pete in the locker room. _Well if that don't beat all…he probably got here early and is down having coffee while I am rushing around to get ready since I got here so late. He's not going to hear the end of this._ Jim was more than a tad agitated by the time he reached roll call, sliding into the room just as Mac began briefing the officers on the previous shifts' happenings.

"Keep a close eye on the liquor stores in your beat. Night shift had three of them hit within a three-hour period, prior to closing. All the witnesses gave pretty much the same description of the suspect; white male, about six-foot tall, medium build. One witness thought he had a dark blue jacket and a black ski mask; the other two witnesses said he had a black jacket and wore a fishnet stocking over his face. In all the robberies, he brandished a small, silver pistol and made no bones about telling the victims that he wasn't afraid to use it."

"Any vehicle description, Mac?" Jim asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. In all instances, the perp told the liquor store employee to stay down on the floor and count to a hundred, slowly; said that if he so much as saw them peek out, he'd be back."

"Any particular area that he hit, Sarge?" Jerry Woods inquired.

"Three different areas, so he must be driving something. Just keep your eyes open and when possible, show a little more officer presence in the areas where the liquor stores are located. Our goal is to get this guy off of the street before he decides to use that weapon."

Mac continued to go over a few other points of interest before dismissing roll call.

"Reed?"

"Yeah, Sarge?" Jim answered, as he scanned the room for any sign of Pete; but not seeing him at all.

"What'd ya do with Malloy? Forget to pick him up?"

Jim frowned and answered. "No, Mac. He was supposed to pick me up this morning so that Jean could have the car today. I was almost late because he didn't. I waited as long as I could and then I had to have Jean drop me off. Maybe his alarm didn't go off or something."

"Yeah, well, take an L-car and I'll call his apartment. When he gets here, you can come back and switch out for Adam-12."

"Sure, Mac." Jim picked up his briefcase and left the roll call room, thinking, _Hmm, I wonder where he could be. Pete doesn't just oversleep. But then, I guess there's a first for everything._

Jim signed out his shotgun and grabbed the keys to 1 L-50 before heading out on lone patrol. He didn't much care for riding the shift alone, though he did enjoy getting in some driving time.

_1 L-50, meet 1 L-20 on Tac 2, _the dispatcher squawked out.

Jim picked up the mic and acknowledged the order, then flipped the channel to Tac-2.

"1 L-50 to 1 L-20, go ahead."

"Reed, I didn't get an answer at Malloy's place. Cruise over that way; maybe he had car trouble on the way in. Keep me advised."

"Roger, Mac. 1 L-50, out and switching back to Frequency One."

"Roger, 1 L-50; 1 L-20 out."

Jim's brain went into high gear. _Car trouble…no…Pete would have gotten to a phone and called. Something's up…I can feel it._ Jim had been partners with Pete long enough to know that unless something was terribly wrong, Pete would have made contact with the station in order to let Mac know that he'd be late or not in at all. Jim had a bad feeling in his gut as he turned the car around and headed towards Pete's apartment.

Parking in front of the apartment building, Jim exited the car and donned his hat before bounding up the steps and into the building.

"Oh, Officer Reed; how nice to see you again." Mrs. O'Brien, Pete's landlady and the self-appointed guardian angel over her favorite bachelor tenant, was just coming out of her apartment when Jim entered the building.

"Hi Mrs. O'Brien. It's nice to see you again."

"How's that lovely wife and sweet little baby?"

"They're doing great; thanks for asking."

"Are you here on business?"

"I, uhm, I'm just checking on Pete. He didn't make it to work yet. I wanted to make sure that he didn't oversleep."

"Well, if he did, it's because he had a late night…if you get my drift." Mrs. O'Brien blushed a bit.

"What do you mean?" Jim's curiosity was peaked, now. Pete had left his house at a decent hour and was heading home as far as Jim knew.

"Well, that…that _woman _he's been seeing for the last few weeks, was sitting out back in her car, waiting for him to come home last night. And the skimpy attire she had on…scandalous, I say…just positively scandalous. Such a nice young man like Pete shouldn't be enticed by a woman like that, but I suppose that men are men and can't help but be attracted to a woman like that. I just wish my Peter would find a nice, Irish, young lady to settle down with."

Jim covered his mouth in a pseudo cough to keep from laughing, despite the situation. He found it amusing that even Pete's landlady was trying to find him a woman to settle down with.

"Uhm, do you happen to know if the young woman stayed very long after Pete came home?" The last thing he wanted to do was to go knocking on his partner's door and have to encounter an uncomfortable situation. What Pete did or didn't do, and with whom, was none of Jim's business.

"Oh, they never even made it inside." Mrs. O'Brien's eyes were wide with exaggeration.

Though not so sure he _really_ wanted to hear _why _they didn't make it inside, Jim asked anyway. "You say they didn't go in? Uhm, how do you know that?" Phrasing the question as diplomatically as he could.

"Oh, I watched the whole thing from my window…that's how I know." Mrs. O'Brien nodded her head emphatically, as if to add credence to her declaration.

_Oh I really don't want to ask this…but here it goes…._ "Just what exactly did you see, from your window, Mrs. O'Brien?"

"Goodness…that woman was clinging to him like moss on a tree. Thank goodness it was dark out. I would have been embarrassed if Pete would have seen me spying on them."

This time Jim couldn't hold back the snicker, earning him a glare from the little lady standing in front of him. He quickly decided that he'd better get around to finishing up his inquiries so that he could report back to Mac. "You were saying that they never made it inside?"

"Nope; they left. Her in that little green bug mobile and Pete in his car."

"You don't happen to remember what time it was, do you?"

"Oh, let's see…I had just finished watching that new half hour show on television and that came on at nine o'clock…so, I guess it must have been a little after nine-thirty. Yes, I'm sure of it, because I was in bed by ten. I like to get my beauty rest, you know. It's how I stay youthful." She smiled and patted her hair. Jim could have sworn that she even slightly batted her eyelashes.

"Well if you went to bed at ten, then you don't know if he came back?"

"No, he didn't come back last night. I woke up at five this morning and his car wasn't out in it's spot. I know that because as soon as I get up, I look out…just to make sure nothing is amiss, you know."

"Yes Ma'am…you're tenants are very lucky to have you looking out for them and their property. Uhm, I'm just going to head up to Pete's apartment and make sure that he's not there… you know…just in case he had car trouble and she had to bring him home." Jim tipped his hat and thanked the sweet woman before making his way up to Pete's second floor apartment.

Jim knocked on Pete's door and waited; then knocked again. Still receiving no answer, Jim used the spare key that Pete had given him a few months prior when he'd gone on vacation for a week and Jim was picking up his mail and watering the one lone plant that Pete owned. Stepping inside, he called out for Pete and received no answer. Taking a quick look around, Jim didn't see anything out of place, but didn't really expect to, after Mrs. O'Brien had said that Pete hadn't made it up to his apartment the night before.

Jim locked up as he left and trotted down to the squad car. Getting in, he picked up the mic, "1 L-50 to dispatch." He didn't like the feeling that was in his gut.

"1 L-50, go ahead."

"Have 1 L-20 meet me on Tac 2."

"Roger, 1 L-50; 1 L-20."

"This is 1 L-20." Mac's voice acknowledged.

"1 L-20, meet 1 L-50 on Tac 2."

"Roger, dispatch."

Jim switched over to Tac 2 and shortly heard, "1 L-20 to 1 L-50, go."

"Mac, I just left Pete's apartment. He didn't stay there last night. His landlady saw him drive away following his girlfriend, shortly after nine-thirty. Mac, call it a hunch, but I think something's wrong."

"Okay, Jim; meet me back at the station so we can figure out what's going on. 1 L-20, out and switching back to frequency one."

"Roger, Mac; 1 L-50 switching back to frequency one."

Jim twisted the knob back to the regular channel and then called in to dispatch that he was heading back to the station to meet with the Sergeant. He then pulled a U-turn and headed for the station. Pulling in and parking, he donned his hat and went in to find Mac.

"Jim; down here in the Lieutenants' office." Mac summoned him.

Jim went in and acknowledged both the Lieutenant and Mac, before launching into the information that he'd gained from Mrs. O'Brien.

"What do we know about this woman?" Lt. Moore asked.

"Her name's Angela Green and she works as a nurse over at Central Receiving. That's where Pete met her. They've been dating for about three weeks."

"Have you met her, Jim?" Mac asked.

"Just last night, as a matter of fact. Pete and she had dinner with Jean, Jimmy and myself."

"And?" Lt. Moore questioned.

Jim shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure if he was being a bit biased in his assessment; after all, just because she didn't fawn over little Jimmy didn't mean that she wasn't a nice person. And, just because she wasn't overly friendly towards he and Jean didn't mean that either. After all, she'd just gotten off of work and maybe she'd had a bad day. Wasn't that what Pete had suggested?

"Well?" Lt. Moore pulled Jim from his musings.

"Let's just say that she made less than a stellar impression on Jean and me. She wasn't overly friendly, mind you. I guess she was polite enough, though. Anyway, we didn't get much of a chance to get to know her; she got to our house just before dinner was served and left shortly after we finished eating."

"And Pete? Did he leave when she left?" Mac wanted to know.

"No, as a matter of fact, he walked her out to her car and then came back in for about an hour or so. We had coffee and he gave Jimmy his bedtime bottle so Jean and I could enjoy a little time to ourselves." The last part of this revelation brought a smile to both the Lieutenant and Sergeant's faces. They both knew that their good friend was opposed to settling down and starting his own family, but that when it came to his partners' family, he had a heart as big as gold and loved spending time with his little godson.

"So he left your house shortly after nine o'clock then? And his landlady said that his girlfriend was waiting in the parking lot for him to get home?"

"Right, Lieutenant. She said that they left shortly after nine-thirty, but that Pete never even went up to his apartment. She's also very sure that he didn't come home at all last night."

"She's sure of that? How so?"

"Well, Sir, she's a pretty sharp old gal, and she prides herself in knowing what does and doesn't go on, both in and around her apartment building. She made it a point to tell me that Pete's car wasn't in his assigned parking space when she arose at five a.m."

"Alright, see about getting an address on this Angela Green and we'll have it checked out. I have to say, in all of the years that I've known Pete Malloy, he's never shirked his duties and not shown up for work. I'm inclined to agree with you, Reed; something must be wrong. Find out what you can and keep Sgt. McDonald posted."

"Yes, Sir; we'll do. Thank you, Sir." Jim turned and left the office, heading up to the records department and to dispatch to see about getting an address for Angela Green. The only trouble was, that in a city the size of Los Angeles, there had to be hundreds of Angela Greens, and without a date of birth, finding her and an address for her, was going to be like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. As a last resort, he knew he could call the hopital and to get the information from their personnel department, which would be like pulling teeth. Jim sent up a silent prayer that luck would be on his side this day and he wouldn't have to deal with all of the red tape at the hospital personnel office.

* * *

"If you know what's good for you, Pete, you'll open up like a good boy and eat!" Angie held the spoonful of vegetable soup up near Pete's mouth, practically forcing his lips apart with the edge of it. Soup spilled down the front of Pete's yellow shirt, quickly staining the material.

Pete's first inclination was to refuse to eat and he voiced that desire to Angie. She responded by forcefully shoving the spoon into his mouth, jamming it against his lower gums and causing him to wince in pain as the scalding hot liquid seared the tender area.

"Now that's more like it." Angie said, as Pete carefully sipped the hot liquid off of the next spoonful. As much as he didn't want to be at her mercy, he was still feeling the stinging effects from the earlier assault with the hot liquid.

Pete figured that if he could keep her semi appeased by cooperating, then maybe he could get some answers from her. "Angie, why are you doing this?"

Angie looked at Pete and very calmly stated, "Revenge, Pete; simply revenge." She shoved another spoonful toward him and he dutifully opened wide.

"Revenge for what, Angie? What could I have possibly done to you? I only met you a few weeks ago."

"I told you last night; you killed my father and now you have to pay the price."

Pete had been wracking his brain every waking moment since she'd gave him that little snippet of information but he couldn't pinpoint anyone that he had shot in the past with the last name of Green. He sat there, silently mulling over what little he knew. He had a perplexed look on his face, which Angie picked up on right away.

"Well, it's obvious by the look on your face that you don't think my dad was worthy of your remembrance!" She was becoming agitated with each passing moment.

_Think Pete….think…._

"You stupid pig! You shot him dead…in the bank…you didn't even give him a chance!" Angie stood up abruptly, sloshing the soup over the edges of the bowl. She gave Pete an angry look and then with all of the force that she could muster, she threw the bowl of soup directly at his chest. The hot soup burned his skin as it covered the entire front of his shirt. Angie stomped off into the other room.

Pete took a couple of deep breaths and then leaned his head back against the back of the couch. He knew he had to get her back in there so that he could talk to her; he had to try to find out who her dad was if he was to have any chance of reasoning his way out of the situation that he was in.

"Angie…please come back in here. I didn't mean to make you mad. At least come back and talk to me."

Angie came back into the room, glaring at Pete. Her voice held a bitter edge as she spoke. "I was just twenty-one the day you killed him; a junior in college. We were supposed to have dinner together that day. Daddy was going to take me to a fancy restaurant after classes let out. All he wanted to do was get a few dollars from the bank. After all, they owed him that much after firing him. He would be still be alive if you hadn't have shot him that day. You murdered my father in cold blood. He never even got to tell me happy birthday." With his hands bound behind his back, Pete was unable to ward off the stinging backhand that landed across his cheek.

"Angie…I'm sorry, but I _don't _know what you're talking about. Who was your dad?"

Angie bent down so that she was face to face with Pete. "You BASTARD! How could you _NOT _remember gunning somebody down? You pigs are all alike; you carry your big gun and hide behind your shiny little badge. You think you have the ultimate authority to play judge, jury and executioner just because you dress up all pretty in your little blue uniform. Well I've got news for you, you son-of-a-bitch; Robert Greenfeld's daughter isn't going to let his death go without being avenged. I intend to make you pay dearly for pumping his gut full of lead, and after I finish extracting justice, you are going to be begging me to let you die in peace! And by the way, just for the record, the name's Ann, not Angie!"

_Robert Greenfeld…now I remember. _"Look, Angie, or Ann, or whatever you go by, you're dad was robbing that bank. He shot a security guard and two tellers. By the time we got into the bank, he'd shot and killed a customer, even. We came in and he didn't give us much of choice. We told him to drop the gun; gave him a chance to give himself up. _He_ chose to shoot at us, first. _He_ drew first blood, not us." Pete was forceful and straightforward with his words and could see the anger rising in Ann's face.

"SHUT UP! That's not what happened and you know it. You pigs never even gave him a chance. Oh sure, you tell that story like that's the way it happened. Maybe you do that so you can sleep at night. Well I have news for you, _Officer _Malloy; I haven't slept at night since you gunned my father down! Instead, I have lain awake every night, just thinking of all of the ways that I could make you pay for killing him. I hate your guts and I loathe the day that I had to lower myself to enduring your filthy touch just so I could get close enough to you to get even. Well, I have you right where I want you now and I intend to mete out a little bit of overdue justice for my dad!" Rearing back her arm, she landed another backhanded blow to Pete's face. She then began pacing back and forth, shooting daggers at Pete, as if daring him to dispute anything that she had just said. He remained silent.

Ann stomped out of the room and then came back in with another piece of duct tape. Before he could protest, she slapped the tape in place over his mouth and then roughly shoved him face down on the couch before picking up her purse and leaving the house without another word. Pete was left with no other choice but to lay in a prone position and wait for her to return.


	3. Chapter 3

Personality Plus

(Chapter 3)

© December 2009

Jim wearily sank down in the chair across from Sgt. MacDonalds' desk. Running his hand down his face, "Mac, I've checked out all of the Angela Greens on this list. I've come up empty so far. Not one of them fits the description; none of them drive a Volkswagen; and no one by that name works at Central Receiving, in any department. The closest thing they have is an Ann Greenfeld, and she's…."

"Who Jim? Did you say 'Greenfeld'?"

"Yeah; Ann Greenfeld. Does that ring a bell?" Jim perked up a bit in his chair.

"_Ann_ Greenfeld doesn't, but there was a Robert Greenfeld that Pete shot and killed during a bank robbery about five years ago. If memory serves me correctly, it seems to me that he had a couple of daughters that would be about the age that you say this Angie girl is, if I'm not mistaken. Let me call up to records and have the report pulled. See if it lists next of kin or anything."

Mac picked up the phone and called the records department. A few minutes later he hung up, and said, "They're pulling the report for me. I'll run up there and get it. You'd better call Jean and let her know you might be a little late. If we can get next of kin names, we'll see if we can locate an address and check into it."

"Sure thing, Mac. Mind if I use your phone?" Jim asked, as Mac was heading out of the door.

"Help yourself. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Jim picked up the phone and dialed his home number. He quickly explained to Jean what was going on and that he would be late. He assured Jean that he would keep her abreast of what was going on and that he'd be home as soon as he could.

Just as he was hanging up the phone, Mac re-entered the office with the police report in hand. "Bingo on the next of kin! Greenfeld had two daughters, Ann and Vicki. Ann's the older of the two, by three years. According to this, she's about twenty-six now."

"I didn't realize that they put that kind of information in those reports, Mac; you know, the next of kin information."

"Only when it's a call that results in the officer assisted death of suspect. The 'dicks' gather all of the info they can on each and every person they talked to. In this case, they talked with both of the daughters, trying to find out if either one knew why their dad would want to rob a bank."

"And?" Jim inquired.

"And, the older daughter, Ann, told them that her dad had called her earlier that morning and was going to meet her for lunch…but before he could meet her, he was going to go to the bank and get some money. Apparently he was taking her out for a birthday lunch…her 21st birthday."

"Wow; imagine the emotional trauma she must've endured; knowing that her dad was going to rob a bank in order to take her to lunch." Jim pondered.

"More like, imagine the implications of knowing that her dad was killed _on_ her 21st birthday…and Pete was the shooter. Jim, Pete could be in some very big trouble right now if we're barking up the right tree."

"Mac, if this Angie, Angela, Ann, or whatever her name is, is this guys' daughter, then we gotta find Pete…and fast!"

Mac nodded his head as he picked up the phone and called up to the detective bureau. He spoke briefly with Detective Jerry Miller about his speculations. Detective Miller took down the information and told Mac that he would do some checking and call him back shortly. In the meantime, Jim set about trying to find an address and phone listing for Ann or Vicki Greenfeld.

* * *

Afternoon had faded to evening before Ann returned to the house. Pete heard her come in and put her purse and a paper bag down before coming into the living room. He was torn between playing possum and pretending to be asleep, or trying to talk with her again and risking the possibility of infuriating her further.

She made the decision for him. "Get up!" She demanded.

It took some effort, but Pete managed to roll onto his back and struggled to get into a sitting position. He was taking too long for Ann's liking so she reached out and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him into a sitting position.

"I would have made it on my own, you know." Pete spat out without thinking.

"Yeah, well I don't have all night." She bent and untied Pete's feet. "Now, get up and walk."

"Where are we going?"

"To the bathroom…even people in prison are afforded basic amenities, after all."

Pete was surprised that she had actually taken his obvious discomfort into consideration, but at the same time, he was thankful. With his feet untied, he thought maybe he had a chance of getting away. _Okay, I can run from her and dive through the window…maybe there will be someone passing by._

"If you're thinking of doing something stupid…don't. I'll shoot you where you stand." Ann pulled Pete's off duty weapon out of her waistband and pointed it at Pete as she motioned for him to start walking towards the bathroom.

"I wasn't intending on trying anything…I was just wondering how I am suppose to take care of business with my hands bound behind my back."

They had reached the bathroom and before he had a chance to elaborate on his question, Ann quickly unzipped his pants and stripped them and his briefs down to his ankles,  
"You should be able to figure it out from here." She stated as she backed out of the bathroom, not leaving Pete much privacy. She was reveling in his obvious discomfort.

Business taken care of and clothes back in place, Pete was once again escorted to the sofa and ordered to sit down. Ann then re-tied his ankles together and went to the kitchen and brought back a plate with a hamburger and some fries on it, as well as a cup of soda with a straw. She proceeded to feed Pete as she had done the night before. This time, though, few words were exchanged and Pete was careful not to say or do anything to anger her.

_Ding-dong…Ding-dong _Someone was ringing the doorbell non-stop.

"Shit!" Quickly setting the plate on the coffee table, Ann got up and reached toward the end table where the duct tape was hanging off of the edge.

"OPEN THE DOOR, ANN, I KNOW THAT YOU'RE IN THERE!" Came the voice of Ann's younger sister, Vicki.

Pete perked up a bit, _Yes! _He thought. _This is my chance. _He was just about to yell when Ann grabbed the duct tape and slapped it, unceremoniously, against his mouth, stifling anything that was about to come out. _Damn it! What do I do now?_

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Just shut up and quit making a scene, will you?" Ann griped as she opened the door, carefully positioning her body so that her sister couldn't see inside.

"Ann, you have no business here, now move out of the way and let me in. I'll wait while you get your stuff and then you need to get out. I still can't believe you stole my passkey to this place. What exactly were you thinking, anyway?"

"Listen little sister, I needed a place to crash. Nobody's interested in buying this place anyway. You said yourself that it's way overpriced. What does it hurt for me to crash here for a few nights?"

"What does it hurt? What does it _HURT_? You're asking me…how can you _EVEN_ ask that! Do you know that I could lose my job if my boss were to find out that you stole my key and decided to set up housekeeping here? I swear, Ann, sometimes you can be so damned immature! You never take the time to think about what consequences your actions might have on anyone else; you only think of yourself!"

"Oh for God's sake, quit bitchin' at me like you are some sort of high and mighty goody two shoes. Like you've never done anything like this before! Give me a break!"

Pete leaned his head against the back of the sofa, leaning as far as he could in order to try and get a glimpse of whoever was at he door. It was no use, Ann was blocking the door with her body, but Pete could hear the voice of another female. _Great! Isn't this just my luck, two psychotic women…just what I really need in my life right now!_

"Move over and let me in!" Vicki pushed her way passed Ann and walked into the living room, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Pete, sitting bound and gagged, on the sofa. He was watching her with guarded eyes and he could tell, just by the look on her face, that she had no idea that her sister had pulled this stunt.

Vicki swung around toward Ann, who now had Pete's gun trained on her, throwing her off guard. She swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully so that she wouldn't anger her sister any further. "Ann? What's going on here? Who is that man over on the sofa, and why is he bound and gagged?"

"Dear little sister, you shouldn't have come here. But, since you did, now I have to tie you up too! After all, I can't have you running off and fetching the police, now can I?" Using the gun as a pointer, she motioned for Vicki to take a seat on the sofa next to Pete.

"Ann, you didn't answer my question." Vicki reminded her as she sat down next to Pete.

"This, my dear little sister, is Officer Peter J. Malloy. Ring a bell?"

"Officer Malloy…" Vicki's voice trailed off. She knew the name. She was eighteen, a senior in high school, when her dad was shot and killed during a bank robbery. Shot and killed by the man sitting next to her on the sofa. She nodded her head, "Yeah, I know the name, Ann; I also know that what you are doing is wrong…just plain wrong. You can't seriously be thinking what I think that you are thinking."

"Well…if you think that I think that I'm going to kill him, then you're right. That's exactly what I'm going to do…kill him; just like he killed Daddy five years ago."

At one time, Vicki wouldn't have cared if the man on the sofa was dead or not, but the facts couldn't be ignored, no matter how painful it had been to learn of them. After hearing actual accounts of what took place on that fateful day five years ago, Vicki's eyes had been opened to the truth; their dad had committed a crime that resulted in death for an innocent person, and serious injury for several others. Her sister had never embraced that revelation and had spent the last five years bitterly hating the man that had killed their dad.

Vicki was shaking her head back and forth, "No Ann, you can't. You can't do that. Officer Malloy was only acting in his job profession when he shot Daddy, and you know it. You have no right to do this, Ann."

"Shut up! You're just as bad a he is!" She pointed the gun at Pete. "He keeps spouting off about it being Daddy's fault that he had to shoot him. Well I am _NOT_ going to listen to it! It wasn't Daddy's fault, damn it! It was _HIS_ fault." Bringing the gun up, and barely taking time to aim, Ann discharged a round into Pete's shoulder. The closeness of proximity caused Pete's body to slam back against the sofa.

Vicki paled as she watched Pete's body rock backwards. She saw the look of shock on his face and the spray of blood as the bullet made impact and he momentarily blacked out from the pain. Ann still had the gun trained on Pete, as if ready to make a second assault.

"NO ANN! Don't do it. Just put the gun down…please Ann, put it down…please." Vicki was pleading with her sister, and at the same time, fearing for the policeman's life. She knew of the hatred that her sister had been harboring for five years; not just hatred toward anyone that stood for law and order, but a particular hatred for the man sitting next to her.

Letting out a long held breath, Vicki watched as Ann slowly lowered the gun and looked at her, "Move one inch while I'm out of the room, little sister, and I'll waste the pig. Got it?"

Vicki nodded her head slowly and watched as Ann retreated to the other room, only to return moments later with a nearly full roll of duct tape. She taped Vicki's ankles together and then she taped her wrists together. "There, that ought to do it."

Pete moaned and both women looked at him. "Ann, he needs a doctor. Call an ambulance, please Ann."

"Nope; can't do that. He's gotta suffer, just like Daddy did." Ann was looking at her fingernails, as if contemplating what color to paint them.

"Ann, don't be stupid. He's still alive and if you get him some medical attention, while it'll still do some good, the courts may have a bit of leniency on you." Vicki pleaded.

"Courts? What courts? Do you really think that I am going to stand trial for any of this; especially when it's not even _my_ fault!" Ann's voice took on a chilling manner that sent shivers up and down Vicki's spine.

Trying to remain calm, Vicki was pretty sure that she wasn't dealing with her sister, and that she was dealing with one of her sister's alter egos; only she wasn't sure which one, so Vicki switched tactics and decided not to argue any more just yet. She had to know which angle to argue, and she knew that her sisters' alter ego would identify herself shortly if she just remained quiet. She sat, studying Ann's face carefully, not saying anything for a moment.

"What, little Sis? Out of wisdom and advice for your big sister? That's a first!" The sarcasm dripping from her words let Vicki know that she indeed was not dealing with her sister, Ann, she was dealing with Angie, the meanest and most hateful of Ann's alter egos.

"No, it's just that I know I'm not talking to Ann…I know that I am talking to Angie or Angela, I just don't know which one. Which one was it that orchestrated this little fiasco?" Vicki's question was very matter of fact as she continued to hold her sister's glare.

Pete, who had fully opened his eyes, was regarding the two women with reserve; he still wasn't too sure that they weren't both a little on the crazy side.

"So…who is it that I'm talking to? Angie, or with Angela?" Vicki was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, but somehow managed to keep her voice calm and quiver free as she spoke.

Pete tried to sit up a little straighter and elicited another small moan, briefly turning the women's' attention toward him.

"Well, well, well…nice of you to come back to us Officer Malloy. Care to join our little discussion? By the way, how does your shoulder feel?" Ann reached out and ripped the duct tape off of his mouth as she trained the gun on Pete once again. Even though he was bound and injured, she figured him as a threat.

"Angie…or is it Angela? You can stop this whole thing right now. Just put that gun down and let your sister leave. She doesn't have anything to do with this. I can see to it that you get the help that you need, if you'll just let me." Pete was trying a bit of psychology on Ann.

"You dumb ass, haven't you been tuned in…my name is Ann, not Angie and certainly not Angela! I'm acting on my own; I don't need any multiple personalities to tell me what I need to do!" She was quickly becoming agitated at Pete.

It was Vicki's turn to try and defuse the situation. "Ann? You're not acting on your own…are you?" _Is it possible that it's really Ann and NOT one of the alter egos that's doing this? _She briefly pondered, and then once again she switched tactics based on that possibility.

"Ann, how long have you been off of your medication?" Vicki's voice was low toned and compassion filled. She'd used that tone of voice in the past when Ann had neglected her medications for too long. It usually calmed her sister down to a semi-rational level.

Bingo…the switch in tactics had the desired effect and Ann had lowered the gun and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, fiddling with Pete's gun as she spoke. "Two months; but it's okay, 'cause I don't really need those pills, you know. They don't really help much."

"Yeah, Ann; I know. You've told me that before. Why did you stop taking them? Were they making you feel sick, again?" Vicki's words were soothing Ann's agitation a little at a time.

"Uhm-huh; I just feel tired and groggy when I take them. I don't like feeling like that. It's kind of a bummer, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Ann, can you take the tape off of my hands and let me help this man? His shoulder is bleeding pretty badly."

"I don't really think I should…he might try and get away…Angela wouldn't like that at all. She really likes him, you know." The last part was whispered, in a conspiring way.

"But Angela isn't in this conversation, Ann; you and I are, and we don't have to tell Angela…or Angie. It can be one of 'sisterly secrets'…you know, the kind we used to share when we were kids. Besides, you are clearly in charge of your own actions right now…I'm sure Angela wouldn't mind if you let me help him; especially if she's fond of him." Vicki could see that her words were giving Ann something to think about and continued, "Besides, he's not in any condition to try and escape…and, he's tied up." Vicki cast a hopeful glance at her sister and then took a quick look at Pete. He looked very pale and she could see that he was in a fair amount of pain.

Ann laid the gun down on the coffee table next to her and reached out to unbind Vicki's hands.

"Thank you, Ann. Can you get me something to use for a bandage, now? Please?" Vicki remained calm and continued to speak quietly to her sister. So far, things were going okay, though Vicki had no idea where this was all leading, or how long Ann's cooperation would hold out.

Picking up the gun, Ann got up and went into the other room, returning shortly with a washcloth and towel, which she handed to Vicki. It wasn't ideal, but it would do, Vicki figured. She turned towards Pete and used the washcloth as a bandage and then tied the towel around his shoulder as best as she could, in order to keep pressure on the wound and help slow the bleeding. Pete gave her a brief, yet thankful smile, careful not to verbalize any thoughts and break the spell of the moment, between the two sisters.

With Pete bandaged, Vicki decided to go out on a very thin limb, "Ann, you look tired, why don't you go in a lay down for a little bit. I'll keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn't go anywhere. You can even tie my hands up again…if you think that you need to, that is."

"I am kind of tired…I probably should bind your wrists again, though. Angie wouldn't like if I left you untied. She can be sort of bitchy…but don't let her know that I said that." She picked up the duct tape and bound Vicki's wrists together again and then walked out of the room, leaving Vicki and Pete behind.

They sat quietly for several minutes, waiting to see if Ann would return. When she didn't, Pete whispered, "How'd you manage that?"

"Turn around and I'll try to untie you." Pete slowly twisted his upper torso so that Vicki could get to the ropes that held his wrists together. With her own wrists bound, it was difficult, but she was able to manipulate her fingers enough to unbind the ropes that held Pete's wrists. "In answer to your question, I've lived with her all of my life; I've gotten used to her…shall we say, 'non-medicated' habits. In case it escaped you, she suffers from having multiple personalities. There are three that we know of; Ann, who's sweet and nice, most of the time; Angie, who is downright mean and vengeful; and Angela, who is basically a nymphomaniac and uses her body to get what she wants. Which one did you fall for, Officer Malloy?"

Pete was caught off guard by her blatant question, as well as her accurate description of the three personalities that he had witnessed in the short time that he'd known Ann.

"Well?" She questioned. She had worked the ropes loose and Pete gingerly brought his arms back in front of him. He then undid the ropes around his ankles, and then unbound Vicki's wrists.

Choosing to avoid the personal part of the question, Pete said, "In answer to your question, I've witnessed all three of those personalities…I don't know why I didn't put the signs together and figure it out ahead of time. I guess for one thing, she uses the name Angie Green…not Greenfeld. I would have recognized that last name."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure that she, meaning Angie, didn't show her hand until she was good and ready. It'd be my guess that she's been planning this for some time and finally decided to execute her plan…as well as _you_, in the process. She's the dominant of the three, and as you saw for yourself, she's downright lethal."

Pete paused, regarding Vicki's words for a split second and realizing that she was right on the money with her assessment of the situation; he was probably lucky to be alive right now. "C'mon, let's get out of here." Pete stood up, a bit unsteady on his feet from the blood loss. Vicki reached out to steady him as they quietly made their way to the front door.

Just as Vicki reached out to unlock the door, they heard the cold, hard voice, "Don't even think about it, little sister." The hackles on Vicki's neck rose as she recognized the tone of voice coming from her sister's mouth; it was the voice of the meanest and most vengeful of her sister's alter egos; Angie.


	4. Chapter 4

Personality Plus

(Chapter 4)

© December 2009

_Back in the break room at the station…_

Jim poured himself and Mac a cup of coffee, "Mac, I've drawn a blank on a vehicle for Ann Greenfeld, but I did get the make, model, and license plate number on one belonging to a Vicki Greenfeld. I was able to get an address and phone number for her; Jerry Miller's checking those out right now."

"Good deal; in the meantime, see if we can't find out where she works, just in case Jerry doesn't find her at home."

"One step ahead of you, Mac. Seems that she has a bit of a lead foot and has had several speeding violations in the last couple of years. She was also involved in an accident about six months ago and the report lists her as a real estate agent with Sunshine Realty. Jerry has that information as well."

"Keep me posted on what you find out. In the meantime, if I hear from Jerry, I'll let you know."

The two sipped their coffee quietly for a few moments, then Jim spoke up, "You know Mac, Pete's like a big brother to me. I hope I don't let him down."

Mac could appreciate the emotions that Jim was going through; he'd been in a similar situation with his partner years ago, when he was just a rookie himself. "Don't worry, Jim. If Pete's in trouble, he'll keep a level head and do whatever it takes to survive while we track him down."

"I know that, Mac…" Jim's sentence trailed off just as Jerry Miller came sailing through the door of break room.

"We may have a lead on Pete's whereabouts. You want to ride with me to check it out?" Jerry directed to Jim, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Yeah, I'll ride with you and you can fill me in." Jim answered, getting up from the table.

"Where we headed, Jerry?" Mac inquired as he got up and rinsed out his coffee cup.

"To the new housing development down by the canyon. Vicki Greenfeld's got a listing out there and she was supposed to have gone and checked on it before coming to work this morning. She never made it in to work." Jerry paused a moment and then continued, "I spoke with one of her co-workers and she said that Vicki's pass key to the place came up missing a couple of weeks ago, so she's been using her co-workers pass key. She told her co-worker that she suspected her sister as the one that took the pass key and that she didn't' want to report it as missing until she could talk to her sister and find out if she is the one that has it. Losing a pass key is grounds for termination from the real estate company."

Jim was at the door and anxious to get going, "Well, c'mon, what are we waiting on?"

"We aren't waiting, Jim, we're right behind you; let's go." Came Jerry's voice as he and Mac got up and headed to the door as well.

Jerry gave Mac the address and then he and Jim headed out, followed by Mac and another uniformed unit.

* * *

"I'm not going to say it again…get away from the door now, little sister."

Pete and Vicki slowly turned around to face a very angry looking Ann. She had Pete's gun trained on them and they both knew that she wouldn't think twice about using it if they didn't obey her orders. Slowly they moved away from the door and back over toward the sofa.

"You know, Vicki, you really are stupid. I can't believe you'd actually think that I would let Ann get away with letting the two of you out of here alive."

Out of the corner of his eye, Pete could see Vicki shrug her shoulders, "Well, it was worth a try, at least. I should have known that I couldn't outsmart you, Angie."

"Yeah, you should've known, but you apparently didn't. I don't like being crossed, little sister." Ann brought the gun up and fired a shot, skimming Vicki's right temple. She crumpled in a heap at Pete's feet; blood streaming from the wound on her head.

"Vicki!" Pete started to bend toward the fallen woman, only to be stopped short by Angie's voice.

"Leave her alone! She got what was coming to her. I told Ann a long time ago that her little sister was a busy body goody two shoes and that one day she was going to push me too far." She gave an evil laugh, "I guess this was the day…"

"Angie…it is Angie, isn't it?" Pete knew he had to try and help the injured woman. "Let me just check her…please?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't want her to live. I never really liked her. I only tolerated her all of these years because Ann likes her. I don't, though; mostly because she's always rallied to Ann's side and she has a way of making Ann think that she doesn't need me…but she does, you know. Ann can't make decisions for herself. With Vicki out of the way, Ann will listen to me."

Pete looked down at the woman on the floor; the head wound was bleeding badly and she wasn't moving. Studying her, for a brief moment longer, Pete was relieved to see slight movement of her chest as she breathed.

"Sit!" Angie ordered, waving the gun in Pete's direction. "Now!"

Pete, not wanting to risk angering her any further, figured that it was in his and Vicki's best interest to do as Angie bade. He wasn't sure just what he was going to do to get them out of this situation, but he knew that he didn't want to risk having Angie take out any further fury on Vicki.

* * *

"That's gotta be it up there" Jim pointed to the house just up the road. He could see that there was a Sunshine Realty sign in the front yard as Jerry pulled the car over. In the side mirror, he could see Mac and the other unit pull up behind Jerry's unmarked car.

Jerry and Jim exited their vehicle and walked back to Sgt. MacDonald. The other two uniformed officers joined them as well.

"See that car in the driveway, there. Fits the description of Vicki Greenfeld's car. I don't see Pete's car, though." Jerry observed.

"Looks like a two car garage. If Ann Greenfeld lured Pete out here, she wouldn't leave his or her car out for anyone to see. She's probably got the vehicles in the garage." Jim offered. He was anxious to find out if his partner was in the house but he also knew that a plan had to be made in order to ensure Pete's safety, as well as the safety of anyone else in the house that was an innocent bystander.

"Alright, Jim, you and Barnes check around the sides of the house. Griffin, you take the backside. Stay low, see what you can find out and get back here as fast as you can with your findings. We'll make a plan after we know what we've got." With those orders in place, Mac and Jerry waited while the officers went about their duties.

Jim and the other two uniformed officers took off toward the house, taking care to stay out of sight as much as possible. Jim took the side of the house that the garage was on and, standing as tall as he could, he was able to get a glimpse into the window on the upper portion of the garage. Pay dirt…he saw Pete's car, and the green Volkswagen parked inside.

On the opposite side of the house, Barnes managed to get a brief look into the side window of the living room. He could see Pete sitting on the sofa, and a woman standing in front of him, with a gun trained on him.

Griffin peeked into two windows to the rear of the one story house, but wasn't able to see anything amiss.

The three met back on the garage side and made their way back to Mac's station wagon, where they reported their findings.

"How do you want to handle this, Mac?" Jerry asked.

"Well, you're in plain clothes; you could take my briefcase and make like a door to door salesman. Maybe get a look inside."

"I don't know…I mean after all, it's an undeveloped area; why would a salesman pick an unpopulated and undeveloped area to go door to door? What else you got?"

"Directions, then? You could be a lost businessman." Jim suggested.

"Hmm…We'll keep that one as a last resort…everyone knows that most men won't stop and ask directions, and if they do, it's usually from a gas station or other well populated source. Not too many people just randomly stop at a house for that…unless someone is outside in the yard at the time."

Barnes spoke up, "Maybe you could say you ran out of gas or the car broke down; you want to use the phone. You get her to open the door and we can storm in."

"Now that's a good idea." Mac agreed.

Jim and Griffin nodded their approval as Jerry contemplated it and then nodded his head, "That would work. Let's do it."

Plans were quickly made for Jerry to act as a businessman with a broken down vehicle; Jim and Mac would stand off to the sides of the door so that they could barge in at the crucial moment. Barnes and Griffin were to watch the side windows and the rear door of the house. The uniformed officers quickly took their assigned places; Jerry straightened his tie, picked up Mac's briefcase and made his way to the front door of the residence, pausing only a moment before reaching out and pushing the doorbell.

_Ding-Dong….Ding-Dong….._

Hearing the doorbell, Pete perked up; maybe help was just on the other side. His thoughts were quickly distracted by a low moan coming from Vicki, who was still lying in a heap on the floor. _C'mon, this girl needs help…please let that be someone who can help us!_

Angie whirled around to look at the door and just a quickly turned back to Pete, suddenly realizing that he wasn't tied or gagged. "Make one sound, one move, or so much as even look like you're thinking of doing anything stupid, and I waste the both of you and whoever is at the door…got it copper?"

Pete knew she wouldn't hesitate to carry out her threat; he stole another glance at Vicki, lying on the floor. Her eyes were open half way and she was looking up him, with a pleading look for help. "Yeah…I got it."

As Angie made her way over to the door, Pete continued to shift his glance between the two sisters. During one of his brief glances at Vicki, she slightly nodded her head toward the window. Pete looked that way also, just in time to catch a glimpse of the top of a policeman's hat, as it slowly passed by the window. He realized that from her vantagepoint on the floor, Vicki had seen it also. _Thank God, help's here, _he thought.

_Ding-Dong….Ding-Dong…._ Came the doorbell again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…hold your horses!" Angie yelled, approaching the door. She had the security chain in place so she only opened the door about five inches. She still held Pete's gun in her hand that was hidden behind the door. "Can I help you?" She asked in the pleasantly seductive voice that seemed to be reserved for Angela's use.

Jerry Miller stood on the other side of the door; he straightened the knot in his tie and smiled at the woman. "Hi…uhm, my vehicle seems to have broken down…just down the street. It's not a real populated area so I just walked to the nearest house to see if I could use a phone to call for a tow truck."

Inside the residence, Pete strained to hear the conversation at the door. He was pretty sure that he recognized the voice of Jerry Miller. He knew that if yelled, he'd likely be signing the death warrants for both Vicki and himself, not to mention the person at the door. It wasn't a risk that he could take since he wasn't sure if it _was_ Jerry at the door. He didn't have to contemplate for long on what to do. Vicki took the decision out of his hands with a loud moan. It was just enough of a distraction, and as soon as Angie looked away from the door, Jerry drew back and raised his leg, kicking in the door and sending Angie sprawling onto her backside.

The blunt force of hitting the floor stunned Angie only momentarily, but it didn't cause her to lose her grip on the gun. She raised it and began to randomly fire at the door, just missing Jerry by inches as he dove into the room with his weapon drawn, yelling, "DROP IT!"

Angie paused and began to lower the gun, then just as quickly, changed her mind. She raised in once again and aimed toward Jerry. She barely got her shot off as both Mac and Jim came through the door, each firing one shot in her direction. Angie fell backwards into a spreading pool of blood.

Jerry went to her side and felt for a pulse; finding none, he announced, "She's dead." He then took Pete's gun from her grip and placed it in the back of his waistband before finding a phone and calling for a couple of ambulances, the coroner and another detective unit. Afterwards, he went outside and told the other two uniformed officers to come around to the front and keep the area secured, even though there was no one else around.

Jim went immediately to Pete's side, assessing his shoulder wound and getting a rundown on what had taken place in the last twenty-four hours.

Mac went to the aid of the injured Vicki, who was beginning to lose consciousness again. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket and trying his best to staunch the flow of blood from her head wound. She moaned at the first bit of pressure. "Shh…just lay still, Miss; the ambulance will be here shortly and we'll get you to a hospital."

"Mac, how is she?" Pete asked from the sofa, making a move to get to the injured woman.

"Sit still Pete; you're shoulder's bleeding." Jim admonished.

"Yes, Mother." Pete knew better than to argue with Jim on the issue.

"I can't be sure, but it looks like it's superficial. The ambulance should be here shortly."

Jerry looked toward the injured woman and then back towards Pete, "Was she involved in this in any way, Pete?"

"No Jerry; I'm pretty sure of it. She showed up here this morning looking for her sister, Ang…looking for Ann. She walked in on a bad situation and I could tell by the look on her face that she was shocked at what she found. At one point, she had her sister talked down and we tried to get away; that's when her sister shot her."

"Hmm…I see. When did Ann shoot you?"

"Well, after I pissed her off by not remembering who her dad was right away, she became very angry and then Vicki tried to talk some sense into her. That's about the time that she decided she'd had enough of talk and she shot me in the shoulder. I think she would have finished me off if Vicki hadn't of intervened when she did." Pete paused a moment to reflect and then said, "This all stems from a pent-up hatred that she had for me…I shot and killed her dad…their dad, five years ago during a bank hold up."

Pete winced as a pain shot through his shoulder. Jerry noticed his discomfort and decided that further questioning could be done later. "We'll go over everything a little later, Pete; relax, it's over now."

Nodding, Pete leaned his head against the back of the couch, and waited. He could feel Jim's eyes boring into him; studying him for signs of distress. He knew that his young partner was concerned for him. Raising his head, he looked at Jim and reached over, putting his hand on Jim's shoulder, "Jim…I'm fine…relax, okay?"

Jim gave him a sheepish smile. He knew Pete didn't want to be fussed over and Jim also knew that Pete wouldn't let on how bad the pain was. He was only trying to make sure that his friend, his son's Godfather, was okay.

On cue, the group inside the residence heard the wail of the sirens off in the distance and a short time later Pete and Vicki were both loaded up in the ambulances and on their way toward the hospital.

_Two days later…_

Pete quietly opened the door to Vicki's hospital room. He didn't want to wake the young woman if she was asleep. She wasn't. She glanced toward the door and gave Pete a slight smile. He could tell that she'd been crying, by the telltale red rimmed eyes that met his as he walked toward her bed.

"Hey there…how do you feel?" He offered a small smile as he leaned on the bed railing. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and his arm was in a sling.

"I'm okay." Came Vicki's slight voice. "The doctor said I had a bit of a concussion from the force of the bullet, but everything is fine otherwise. It was pretty much superficial." She nodded slightly towards Pete's shoulder, "How are you doing?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm fine…been through this before." He had a tendency to blow off his injuries as if they were no big deal.

"Detective Miller was in yesterday. He said that Ann's dead. He said that she shot at him and that the other two officers shot her." She turned questioning eyes towards Pete for confirmation.

Quietly he nodded his head, "I'm sorry Vicki; yes, Ann is…she's gone."

Vicki swallowed hard a couple of times, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears, "Well maybe now she's at peace…" She squeaked out in a barely audible voice, closing her eyes tightly and biting her lower lip as she struggled to control her emotions.

Pete lowered the railing on the bed, not an easy task with only one good arm. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and, laying his free hand on her arm, he spoke softly to her.

"Vicki…I'm so sorry things turned out the way they did. I just don't know what to say…other than I'm sorry."

"It's okay…you don't have to say anything…it wasn't your fault; it wasn't the other officer's fault either. It was Ann's doing…well, the doing of Ann's multiple personalities. She'd struggled with having multiple personalities for most of her life. I guess it was her way of dealing with mom leaving us when she was six and I was three. Dad never amounted to much when we were kids; he didn't really know how to deal with little kids, so we were left alone, a lot, to fend for ourselves. Ann took on the typical 'big sister' roll and I guess that was a roll that was just too big for one little six-year old. She used to be nice one minute and then really mean, to me, as well as everyone else, the next. Up until she was in junior high, it was just the two personalities."

Curious, because he had taken a couple of college courses in psychology, Pete asked, "What changed in junior high?"

"Boys."

"Boys?"

"Yeah, boys. Angela began to show up on a regular basis when Ann was old enough to notice boys. Suddenly, my plain-Jane sister molded herself into a life-size Barbie doll and had a new boyfriend every weekend. And I don't use the term 'had', lightly…"

Pete, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, cleared his throat and looked toward the floor, mumbling something unintelligible.

"Sorry…I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Officer Malloy." Vicki apologized.

Pete gave her a small smile, "Uhm…no, that's okay, you didn't."

"Liar." She fired back without thinking; but not in an angry tone; her voice had a teasing note to it.

He perked a bit at her teasing tone. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Most people don't turn beet red and look away unless they are uncomfortable, Offi…"

Cutting her off at the pass, "Call me Pete...please; I think after what we've been through, first names aren't exactly overstepping the boundaries of etiquette."

"No, probably not…"

"Did the doctor say when he's springing you from this fine establishment?" Pete wanted to keep the mood light.

"Maybe tomorrow afternoon. What about you?"

"Either this afternoon or tomorrow morning. I'm really hoping for this afternoon, though."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that. They'll spring you when they think you can stay out of trouble."

"Ooh…I may _never_ get out of here then." Pete laughed along with Vicki, but when he noticed that she had stop laughing and had gotten quiet, he asked her what was wrong.

"Pete…I'm sorry that Ann hurt you…in more ways than one. You seem like a very nice person; she had no right to do any of this to you. On her behalf, please accept my apologies."

"Vicki, you've got nothing to apologize for. You're sister was…ill; she had problems that were beyond her control, and I realize that now. I just wish I could have seen the signs sooner and maybe all of this could have been avoided; maybe I could have gotten her the help that she needed."

"No Pete, she didn't want help…not from me, and certainly not from you. She had a plan of vengeance to carry out where you were concerned and I just happened to get in her way. I'm going to miss my sister…we did have some good memories together, but at the same time, I'm not stupid enough to believe that she would have let either one of us leave that house alive if she could've helped it. She would have killed you and me both if your fellow officers hadn't shown up when they did."

Pete didn't have much to say to the blatantly true statement that Vicki had just voiced, so he just nodded his head slightly in agreement.

Sitting silently for a few moments, and contemplating what could have been their fate, was proving to be more than a little uncomfortable for both of them. Finally Pete broke the silence as he rose up from the edge of the bed, "Listen, I had better get out of here before they notice that I'm not in my room and send out the search party. You take care of yourself, Vicki; if you need anything…anything at all; even if it's just because you want to talk…call me. Here's my home phone number, and my work number. I'll likely be off for a couple of weeks and then probably have a week or two of desk duty." Pete picked up a pencil and piece of paper off of her bed tray and jotted the numbers down. He then gave her hand a squeeze and turned to leave the room. Deep down he knew that he probably wouldn't hear from her. It was an awkward situation; one best put behind the both of them.

Vicki gave him a smile and a small wave as she watched him walk out of her room. Sighing, she turned over and thought about the man that just walked out of her life.

A few minutes later, the nurse came in to take her vitals. "Vicki? Are you awake, or are you dreaming about the handsome man that just walked out of here?"

Vicki turned over and smiled at the nurse, "Yes, I'm awake...and yes, I was thinking about the man that just walked out of here; now please, call me Victoria."

The End

They say that inside of every one of us is another person wanting to bust out and be heard. My inner person wants to be a writer. This may be the closest I ever come to making that a reality, therefore I want to take this opportunity to thank the faithful readers that give me a chance to be a writer every time you read and review a piece that I have penned. Thank You.


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